Sorting of '91
by The Angel of London
Summary: For: Different Persepective Competition  EvangelineKL   #50 The Sorting Hat


**Sorting of '91**

Different Perspective Comp – Sorting Hat

**Disclaimer: Not Mine. Geddit?**

**Words: (excluding song) 1050**

The Sorting Hat sat in his stool in front of the Great Hall. Behind him were all the teachers – excluding Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall – both of whom were in charge of the first years. The second to seventh years were already seated and waiting, catching up with other friends they hadn't the chance to on the way.

Behind him, the teachers exchanged the occasional comment, but were, for the most time, quiet and waiting. Even for the Sorting Hat it was obvious Headmaster Dumbledore was waiting for none other than Harry Potter himself.

Finally, after a few minute wait, the doors were opened and the tall figure of the Deputy Headmistress was seen, followed by an army of small, twitchy eleven year olds. All of them were looking around the Great Hall in wonder, but most of them at the ceiling – it resembled the night sky, a dark navy sky with many white stars.

The Sorting Hat yawned mentally. Year after year, it was the same. Of course, every once in a while, an especially brilliant student put him on to be sorted, but they were far and few. The last he remembered was one Tom Marvolo Riddle in 1937 – a brilliant boy, if not a bit bitter and one to work alone. Nevertheless, he displayed amazing magical abilities, and it was fairly obvious he'd read ahead and learnt the spells as well as he could.

Before Riddle, he recalled sorting Albus Dumbledore himself – also brilliant, but not as much as Riddle somehow. While Riddle's thoughts had a slightly menacing edge, Dumbledore's had more of a superior edge – he was a pureblood, while Riddle, although half-blood, thought himself a muggleborn.

The Great Hall was silent and waiting for him to sing the yearly song, so he opened his mouth with a zip and started:

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me. _

_You can keep your bowlers black, _

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_. You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

I finished my song and a wave of applause overwhelmed me. I looked at the first years and they all looked at me fearfully. In the centre I saw a very ginger boy whispering nervously to a raven haired boy with emerald green eyes. They reminded me – and probably most of the teachers – of James and Lily Potter. I also knew the ginger was a Weasley – without him putting me on, I could tell he was going in Gryffindor.

But then again, maybe not. Over the years I had miss-sorted a number of students. The Weasley Twins, for one. Now, now I can see they're very cunning and ambitious, evading many detentions, they would've fit in well in Slytherin.

I scoffed; this idea of sorting when they're just eleven is somewhat ludicrous. They're much too young to have developed their own beliefs, personalities and so. A few well placed words and a once Slytherin-wannabe would want to go to Gryffindor because of Salazar's bad reputation.

But of course, back in the 5th century, these problems had not existed. I only hope there is someone who doesn't base their thoughts of houses on their classmates' words.

McGonagall had called the first student up to be sorted and a small girl, Hannah Abbot, trembled as she put me on her head. Immediately, I could read her thoughts; loyalty, justice... She was a 'HUFFLEPUFF!' Susan Bones came up and she was easier to read, so I sent her behind Abbot with a loud 'HUFFLEPUFF!'

Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were quite smart; the logical thing was them to be sent to Ravenclaw. My first Gryffindor of the year was Lavender Brown, a very vain young girl, even for her age, but as she hadn't fit in with any of the houses - she was neither cunning and ambitious nor smart nor loyal.

As soon as I sorted Millicent Bulstrode into Slytherin, I noticed young Potter's unpleasant look and I feared his thoughts had been influenced by others. The sorting took a while and I was actually quite bored with the not-so-brilliant minds until I heard a Hermione Granger being called.

She was eager and had a thirst for knowledge, always wanting to learn more. Already I could see she'd read and just about memorised all the books needed. It reminded me of Tom Riddle.

'_Aha,' I whispered in her ear, slightly startling her, 'I can see you have your mind made already. Gryffindor, hey? You know, you're very intelligent, more so for your age. In Ravenclaw, you could be brilliant... But wait; I can loyalty and a sense of strong justice. You're also very ambitious and cunning – traits Salazar himself favoured. It doesn't matter whether you're muggleborn.' _

'_Gryffindor, Gryffindor,' she told me, shutting her eyes tightly._

'_You sure? Remember, maybe you could change the general view of Slytherin, a brilliant muggleborn... You could be as great as Riddle... No? _GRYFFINDOR_!'_

She jumped off the stool and passed me to McGonagall, her eyes on the floor as she ran to the red table, sitting next to two other could-have-been Slytherins – pity. But I could see my words affected her.

Neville Longbottom, although shy and nervous and self-conscious, was actually a brave boy – if he were to come out of his shell, he too was a Gryffindor.

I saw a blonde boy put me on, and immediately I shouted Slytherin. Be it his parents influence or not, his mind was pure Slytherin – no bravery, loyalty nor wit. I saw him sit between Crabbe and Goyle, two exceptionally stupid – although I should remain neutral and not be prejudiced – Slytherins.

After a bunch of students, all with different thoughts and all loyal, smart, brave or cunning – Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson (both Slytherins through and through), Padma and Parvati Patil (somehow, one a Gryffindor and the other Ravenclaw) and a mysterious Sally-Anne Perks – came Harry Potter himself.

'_Hmm, difficult. Very difficult,' I pondered, 'Plenty of courage, and not a bad mind either. A thirst to prove yourself... Interesting, interesting indeed. But where to put you?'_

'_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.'_

'_You sure? Not Slytherin? You could be great, Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness, there's no doubt about that. If you're sure – better be_ GRYFFINDOR_!'_

After sorting Harry Potter into Gryffindor, somehow, I caught a glint in the Headmaster's eyes – and I knew I should've sorted him into Slytherin, regardless of his opinion. Nothing good would come out of this, nothing good.


End file.
